


Untitled Dresden Avengers

by peoriapeoria



Series: Chicago Second City [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Fantastic Four (Movies 2005-2007), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Dresden Files - All Media Types, The Sentinel
Genre: Fatherhood, M/M, Survivor - Freeform, Weddings, rapprochement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 22:30:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 5,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peoriapeoria/pseuds/peoriapeoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Dresden is a Wizard and a P.I. The Avengers visit Chicago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Later chapters reference a canon event of one of the four archive warnings, and there may be an implication of a pre-event of two of them. This is the reason for changing to Choosing not to Warn.

Chicago has a lot happen to it and I happen to a lot of those...happenings. Sometimes, I have to ask for help. So I was a bit surprised to be up to my shoulder when a calvary unrelated to the local mafia jumped in.

Right, I'm Harry Dresden, Chicago's only Wizard P.I. It's in the yellow pages. I make things happen to technology, so research can be a little interesting, and more importantly I get behind on current events. "Captain America?" The fight got more serious then.

I'm all for help, really I am. But being forgotten in my own Chicago while the smoke is still rising from the pavement? No. "Who all are you and what are you doing here?" So, who ever was in the Captain America suit was built, but I didn't recognize the rest of the Halloween rejects. Those bad things? A lot of them happen around my birthday, so I don't pay much attention to the costume ads.

"That's our line." It was a weird thing for a robot to say. It was smartly staying away from me.

"We're the Avengers." Their Captain America spoke. "We'd wondered when bad guys would think to attack somewhere other than New York City." He looked around the battlefield. Those crushed buildings, not my fault. Really, Tin Can Man flung someone/thing into them and it was dominos from there.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'd like to draw you."

Now, it probably says something that I inserted 'and quarter' because that made more sense of the verb, even though the phrase didn't match the speaker. Harry Dresden, wizard. Somehow I kept running into the Avengers, though that did seem to keep Marcone away. Probably would cause the universe a conniption if he and Tony intersected.

So I wanted to see that grudge match. Stark would be the train John couldn't get to run on time. Right, back to Steve.

Now, I have to say that I've a brother that looks like the Greek god of Axe, but men just don't look like Steve. "Why?" I supposed mirrors were a pain, but shouldn't he be doing self-portraits? Or the Black Widow?

Then again, he might look too much like those Russian posters from the thirties and that could be awkward, Captain America, even with the Cold War and Communism done. Though, come to mention it, he did look like a God of Tractors.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV switch.

Marcone lowered his blackberry. His operation wasn't affected significantly by the frequent presence of Captain Steve Rogers also known as Captain America and it did tend to tie up the loose ends of sloppier rivals and competitors.

It made a certain sense, Harry had to live like it was the 1940s because of the way his magic affected technology, and Captain Rogers had only just arrived from the 1940s. There was also the fact Wizards lived a long time if they didn't act like Harry. For a man that had Rip van Winkled, it would have an appeal.

The problem was actually several. Harry did act like Harry and this was difficult enough for Marcone, but Captain Rogers really had lost too much. He wished no ill towards Captain America, even as a professional monster. Second, Harry believed himself to be much straighter than he believed was true. This would pose a problem once the captain's social conditioning wore down. The third was more personal and moot.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is perceptive when he's not personally at stake.

Tony doesn't like magic. He really doesn't like magic that makes perfectly good machines break down. That he depends on a very cutting edge machine to keep him alive...

The only way this apartment could be smaller was if Bruce were here. Mouse (really, Harry was worse at naming things than he was) had his head on Steve's knees getting his ears rubbed tag teamed. Mister, introduced as a cat, was sleeping on a shelf, just under the ceiling of the basement. Both pets were as out of scale as the wizard they lived with.

Yes, wizard, the other half of Mouse's scalp massage, pressed against Steve sitting on his couch. The reason that Tony is sitting on an ice box. An ice box, in Chicago, in the twenty-first century. Not a refrigerator, an ice box. It's the furthest he can get away, not prepared to sit on a wood stove.

He's not sure which is worse, Steve earnest and thrumming or Harry clueless. Actually, the door is worse, as is that they have to hole up here with only it and hocus pocus between them and slavering monsters.

In the end, they don't have to hole up until morning. Tony hears one of his 'misplaced' Stark Industries shipments, from before he got out of the arms business. Who uses a rocket launcher in Chicago? Who uses a rocket launcher in a city and doesn't hit any buildings?

Right, one of Marcone's men. Red's big enough it's like a small arm. He steps inside and then there is no room at all.

Gentleman Johnny Marcone is in the building. Tony never wants to see anything like Marcone sizing up Harry and Steve. Wars started on less. He and Harry snipe, totally married, Marcone folding up tighter than Tony's suitcase suit before leaving, conceding Harry to the better man.

No apples in the tower, delicious, golden or otherwise.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry looked around him. He recognized several of the scenes before him, Snow White and the glass coffin, Bruhillda on her fiery bier, Cinderella in her ashes slumped, Sleeping Beauty in the frozen castle, Dorothy in the poppies. What was disturbing was that Steve Rogers was in each one as the 'princess'. Cinder-Steve might weigh a hundred pounds with the cleaning supplies.

Winter. He got the point, and he expected the other scenes were from more modern media or too erudite for him to recognize.

"One is real, the others phantasms. Pick your rose."

Why did things like this happen to him?


	6. Chapter 6

Steve applied himself to his drawing. He felt he must be acclimating, he'd have sooner been a simian than placed himself on a page in a pinafore before. His Alice was slighter than he was now, but not as he'd once been, and the hair was driving him a bit mad, he'd erased and redrawn and re-erased so many times the paper was thinned.

The spit take Coulson had made when Tony called him Dorothy had been worthy of the movies. It had been meaner than his usual, since there were no slippers that could take him home. Then was no longer home, not in the sense of a place, it was but a memory.

Home was here, was now, with these new people, these friends. He'd been unwilling to see when he'd woke, he couldn't understand how much had changed. There were good changes; more people could see more people in all their nuanced humanity. There was a long way still to go, but he knew just how far matters had already come.

He erased some highlights onto the figure of the Knight, more gunslinger than medieval. No one had kissed him the first time he came out of the ice.


	7. Chapter 7

Tony built things. Harry wasn't exactly his friend, sort of hard for that when one has an arc reactor that's still science-fiction holding shrapnel at bay and the other kills technology past mid-century 20th. Harry was Steve's friend, and Tony knew that Steve needed that.

That technology thing was a problem. Tony built a suit out of junk in a cave; his junk, granted, but he'd built the suit under vile conditions. Here, he could use any resource, as long as the products' moving parts were old-school.

Solar heater. The pump was the only moving part, and besides the ball bearings, belts and oil, it was just as it had been on the farm. He designed the piping run and prepared instructions, sending them and the pump to Michael Carpenter. It was an unobtrusive retrofit and he paid Harry's landlady a "trialing fee" that he had legal confirm wouldn't mess with her social security and tax liability.

He might have figured out the specs for making a solar oven out of common garbage in the process. There was a lot of mylar in the world. He might have paid a few graffiti artists and musicians to get that information into circulation.


	8. Chapter 8

Naomi loves Margaret Angelica Sandburg Ellison. "You were very good tying those knots."

"Grandpa helped me practice."

William Ellison had grown over the past eight years. Naomi had too. Marriage would have been a straitjacket for her, but it looked good on her sons. Her son, the detective; Naomi wouldn't have been able to process it when she was carrying Blair. She'd been trying too hard when she backed up Simon offering the badge. He'd become a consultant instead, translating 'incompatible worldviews'.

She hoped Susan was well. The woman had disappeared shortly after the birth. "Margaret Angelica, I love you and leaving is the hardest thing. Be happy and well." was the note she'd pinned to her swaddled babe. A staggering gift.

"How are my favorite girls?"

Jim was still stealth on two legs. He'd scooped up Meg and taken Naomi's hand before she'd known he was there.

"Very lucky. Mazel tov."

"Can you see Pop from there?"

Naomi knew that Jim knew where Blair was already. She steeled against the shudder when Meg said four o'clock . It would take longer to accept casual military indoctrination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I had Changes related continuity issues, so this is how I fixed it. I might be a little off in the timeline, just wiggle it like multiple dates of birth. This installment is post Nov 6th 2012.


	9. Chapter 9

Steve clasped his hand around Harry's. He didn't know what to do with this, he had been through a lot, and he had problems meeting people that he wouldn't have thought possible before the Serum. It felt real. It would though, wouldn't it?

Harry looked at him, and he wondered if he had this expression at times.

"I'd like to kiss you." He'd been surprise-kissed by Lorraine, and while he'd liked the kiss it hadn't been something to do. He leaned his forehead against Harry's. Peggy firing on him might not have been a good imprint. Fierce, beautiful Peggy.

"Why?" Harry tipped his head and pressed his closed mouth against Steve's.

Steve pulled back as the kiss ended, noticing Harry's grip tightening. "May I?" Harry pulled him forward and Steve kissed him again. He pulled back again.

"What?!"

Steve wrapped his left arm around Harry. He'd felt Harry flinching. Steve stroked his fingers over Harry's right hand.

Harry captured Steve's right hand. He slumped against Steve. "Your hair's soft." He lifted his left arm across Steve's back. Steve shifted to keep their knees from dueling.

The hug was good. Harry had been filling out a little. He liked that Harry was taller, it was comfortable, comforting.

Harry kissed him. Harry had kissed him when Winter had him. He feared they were on thin ice.


	10. Chapter 10

Marcone looked at Harry sprawled in a chair. He'd started owning his height, and John considered it more than time. Captain Rogers was a good influence on Chicago's Wizard. He suspected Harry had rather a hand in them not being all over social media; his own network gave Marcone enough reason to conclude the two had come to a more complete understanding. The delivery of two extra-long twin mattresses and box springs sealed it.

He boxed up all the things that never would have been. He was a monster and Harry a hero. That could only end in pain and destruction for at least one of them. Chicago came first.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work now has a new rating and it's because of this chapter. We have some possible triggers here, though nothing graphic, nothing current and in scene, and nothing between our protagonists.

Someone had hurt Harry. Steve hated bullies and he considered this a particularly craven act, vile. He'd been reading, to better understand issues affecting the military. He'd have been happy for that research not come so close, to stay at a remove.

Steve had been surprised when Harry showed him the new bed. Steve had seen the old one on the way to the bathroom, thinking that it was too small for Harry. They made love for hours in the living room but Steve demurred, took his his leave before their pants came off. At first that had meant reading paperbacks for a few hours while Harry slept, then it meant having a cheap room to head to.

Tony told him to use the Stark executive suite. Actually, Tony had told him to feel free to ruin the electrical. Steve felt like he was draped across a live wire which his hand couldn't relieve.

"Sleep with me." Harry said it in a way that made Steve want to kiss him everywhere.

"I'm not tired right now." It was true, he wanted something more vigorous than restful, but he could see he'd played his earnest 'confused' well. "Harry," he interjected as the wizard's expression shifted to self-depreciation. Steve touched him and one thing led to another, making out at and then on the foot of the bed.

Steve took off his trousers, leaving his shorts on. 'Tent' wasn't enough of a word. Harry skinned out of his jeans, his underwear similarly strained.

"How, what, Iwantyousomuch."

Steve fitted them together. They lost the fabric quickly and came shortly thereafter. Steve arranged Harry and held onto him, letting himself be pulled into place while keeping the mess between them. He'd clean them up once Harry was sleeping soundly.


	12. Chapter 12

I like sex. Really, really like sex. I love Steve, which had made things more than just slightly frustrating, making out on the couch for hours. I'm not much for self-abuse, my tussles with the nights' gnashing teeth notwithstanding. I might have taken myself in hand a few times, not to release, but for comfort.

Seeing Steve, seeing the arousal that I'd only been feeling when we got overheated, then feeling all of him, us coming--

I want us to have sex. This is good, that's undeniable. Steve's warm, hot, strong, smooth. I miss sex. That sounds ungrateful, Steve is beautiful in our bed; it is our bed, even though sometimes I sleep alone. He is an Avenger after all. I know how that goes, he lives in New York, I in Chicago.

I love making him come, fondling him, rubbing us together, sex would be more so. I know that he recovers quickly. He'd be careful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to change the warning status because we're getting closer to matters from canon.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is being Harry, machismo set on self-destruct. Steve can improvise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger alert, we're getting into some Canon Major Warnings, related to the ill-starred Bianca's Ball years ago.

Harry rolled over onto his stomach. Steve had been hard, but his blood drained back into circulation at Harry's stiffness. He didn't know what to do. He settled in next to Harry, chin over his shoulder, one arm across his back.

"Steve?" Harry sometimes sounded so lost. That wasn't what Steve loved, it was how Harry did the right thing, stood up to evil whether despite that or because of it. "Just do it."

At least Steve got the reference. Harry 'joked' when he was uncomfortable. Shoals and waves, this was delicate. "I'm calling dibs, when we're ready for that step." He'd been reading, there was a lot more talk about sex now, but that didn't mean that much of it was informed.

"What?!"

Okay, so maybe Steve did like the disjunct between badass Harry and confusion. Humanity wasn't a bad turn-on. "When you really want penetrative sex, you'll do me first."

Harry eeled away and sat up. "This that leading from the front?"

"Maybe." He felt that it was Harry's elephant to talk about or ignore. Steve had learned about Red Court vampires, and put together a possible scenario from the burnt bordello and Harry's hermiting afterwards.

Harry reached for him and lay back down. The mood was lost, but lying together tangled would never be a loss.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fresh air! Exercise and good deeds. Low angst section.

Molly hit Harry in the arm.

"What?!" He looked at his apprentice then at what she was looking at. Whom. See, that's how wholesome Steve was, he inspired tight grammar. Tight... "Stop looking at his--" They were spending a day rehabilitating a park, Michael overseeing the construction of play equipment, including some ramps and platforms. Harry took a moment to look at Steve.

"It's patriotic." Molly hit Harry again.

"Stop that." Harry was incinerating things he didn't want to pick up. He'd mention that the Outfit was slipping, that was the third needle he'd rended to atoms, next time he saw Marcone. "Why are you hitting me?" He might have not wanted to spend a day with Steve cleaning up a park, not because he wanted to spend a day in with Steve, but because he didn't do well at sharing. Steve was Captain America when he wasn't a Chicago wizard's boyfriend.

"You didn't bring him to dinner. You didn't say anything. Totally news."

Harry looked at Molly. Okay, that wasn't just lust, there was hero worship there too, actually more of that than the other. He thought back to this morning. Charity had smiled as they got their coffee and assignments. "I--"

"Are a horrible boyfriend. You do know it's okay to be Takei?"

It wasn't the pig latin he knew. His Latin was pretty piggish too.

"Sulu. He's gay, Brad's his husband and he cuts bullies with his wits. I'll get you his book."

Huh. Harry looked at where Steve was holding a railing, letting Michael get into position to fasten it in. He was a very lucky man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a good suggestion and I figured out how I wanted to do it. (Bob and Phil are trickier.)
> 
> Thanks for commenting!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A double drabble as a stocking stuffer or cheer against winter's cold.

Steve sometimes had trouble with the new world, this future of wonder still with clay feet up to the knees. It was so loud and detailed that a lot got lost, there wasn't much subtlety. Harry at least had thick walls. Steve blushed. The future had a lot going for it.

He did pick his time. They were sitting on the couch, enjoying each others company. A phonograph was playing in the far corner. Tony had done something so the records could play much longer, and it could play one after another. "Harry, have you thought about being inside me?"

He kept forgetting about soda cans. Coke had come in bottles, by the glass at a fountain. The spit take was impressive, and Harry breathed some in too. Steve rubbed Harry's back while he worked it out.

"Why?" Harry looked hunted.

"I want to try it. Harry, I love you. That's not dependent on this. It doesn't mean--" This was the hard part, this was the buried ordinance. "It doesn't mean you have to let me inside you." Steve put one finger gently on Harry's lips. He let their foreheads come together. He sighed in relief as Harry kissed him.


	16. Chapter 16

Marcone looked at the butterscotch haired man sitting before his desk. He slipped into his own chair quickly. "Phil, how are you?"

"You landed on you feet."

That wasn't accurate, and both of them knew it. "This isn't a social call."

"Who is Harry Dresden?"

That stopped him for a telling moment. "Sometimes Chicago's only hope." Harry was more complicated than that, much more complicated.

"He disappeared leaving behind a smoldering mansion and a destroyed gas station. Human remains were found at the mansion. Two years after that he's in Chicago."

A boy, Harry would have been a boy. Marcone had found the adoption records and school records, an X-ray of a broken arm. You could wound a child without marking their body. The address on file was a law office. "He's a wizard, and they don't have child protective services."

 

"He's burnt down some of your properties."

"Chicago is very volatile, old wiring, creosote, batting and loose fill insulation. This is about Captain Rogers." Phil's silence was telling. "Harry's a hero."

"You're not."

"I'm a businessman, just like Tony Stark." He had less innocent blood on his hands. He scored a mark, Phil reacted, knew the man. "The Captain is welcome in Chicago."

"He's young."

They were getting old. Discounting the time he'd been missing, Captain Steven Rogers was twenty-six come July. "Why are you really here?"

"Meeting with someone I once knew. How's your family?"

"Dead."

"My condolences." 

He nodded in acceptance, pleased by the small peace for his mother and grandmother, rest their souls. Phil hadn't known. "Answer the question, why come to me because Captain America is dating Chicago's Wizard?"

Phil got up. "I am sorry." He walked out.

Marcone was going to have to pull the security tapes. Spook master class wasn't taught every day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came to me, and while it's not Bob and Phil, Happy Solstice!


	17. Chapter 17

"Peggy was the love of my life, before I went down."

Harry looked at Steve. He'd learned not to cut him off, not just because it was rude, but because Steve spoke in sentences with dependent clauses. You lost too much of the meaning if you turned him into sound bytes.

"I wanted us, after the War. I trusted that she knew who I was, and she was real swell."

This didn't sound good, but Harry figured Steve deserved saying his whole peace.

"I love you and I don't know how to get that through your thick head."

Wait, that wasn't how he thought this went.

Steve sighed. "You, that's what I mean. You make this less crazy, better crazy, jump in here and save me."

Harry snorted. "Not that sort of Wizard."

Steve smiled, the one that made Harry think he was lucky, and maybe moonlighting in a better life than his own. "You make me happy, but I think there's something I'm missing, that you need."

See that was the thing about Steve, he was much better at people than Harry. It wasn't a high bar, so Steve vaulted it without a pole. "You should make love to me." He could be civil. What was that expression on Steve's face? It was replaced with the mulish one, and Harry didn't relax, but really, he felt better at that.

"But you don't want to make love to me."

Bells, even Harry could see this trap. Okay, not the specifics. He did not have to figure out Captain America's plans without a cheat sheet. There were ways Steve and Captain America weren't the same, but they both were the man with a plan. Harry fought bristling, sought to put lie to Steve's statement.

Thing was, that euphemism was in the way between truth and lie. They had a good thing, but Harry missed sex, and they were both guys. He trusted Steve, but he couldn't shove into him. Steve being Steve wanted to lead from the front.

"Tell me."

Harry shook his head. He knew Steve would be mad. He wasn't quite as stupid as he let on.

"Why should I fuck you first?"

Harry boggled. Steve didn't talk like that, which gave the words more power when he called on them. He tried to think it through, it was why he couldn't take Steve, he shied away from details. Steve could do it, Harry could let Steve, he was sure of that, he trusted Steve.

He was drawn into Steve's arms. Safe. He was safe, he could hear Steve repeating his name. Steve could hold him together in one arm and ruffle his hair. Harry drifted. He loved Steve, he couldn't hurt him. He missed sex.


	18. Chapter 18

Captain America is a legend. Seventy years give or take will do that, burnish the best and smudge over the rest. Steve is young, and he'd lost his world. Clint descends the stairs to the basement door, box of beer under his arm. At least the door wasn't still like Tony had reported.

Steve has been mopey. SHIELD has him on such a publicity schedule he's not been able to make it to Chicago. Clint had seen Steve writing letters, rather seen envelopes going out. His copperplate hand looks nothing like the fast Captain America, with its star for the capital A he autographs with, or the precise printing his dedications are lettered in.

Clint knocks, hard. This neighborhood is hard, a bit of city passed by, though cleaner than that usually meant. The street lights hadn't been shot out. Eventually the door opens, still chained. Damn. Though he notices Harry's standing to the side looking out. Better.

"Hawkeye?"

"We should talk, brought beer."

He really did hope Harry recognized him, that the beer wasn't the deciding factor. He walked in. Again, it was cleaner than he might have feared, though Harry was seeing Steve sometimes one slid. Must not take on water, given how many rugs were piled over the concrete floor.

Harry opened the box, took out two cans and put the box into the ice chest, then stepped back to the couch. He stared, never meeting Clint's eyes. Steve had mentioned that, a wizard thing. "Why are you here?"

"I'm not as camera ready as Steve. I owe him a solid." Clint did, Steve had taken him at his word, had accepted Natasha's assessment of her 'recalibration' after Loki yanked his strings. Steve, not Captain America. Steve that was drawing Chicago streetscapes and moping. "You don't call, you don't write." Postcards in a typed up envelope wasn't writing. Blank, or mostly blank postcards.

"Phones are tricky."

The dog trotted in, sat in front of Clint, then looked at Harry and back, then at the empty spot on the couch and back at Clint. It was strangely eloquent, 'where's Steve?' "How'd you ever name him Mouse?"

"He fit in my pocket. Wedged himself under my car seat, didn't find him until the rest of the litter was flying back home without him."

Mouse grinned. He was no ordinary dog, and that wasn't a matter of size. We sat and drank, Harry getting up occasionally to grab two more. I nursed mine, letting him drink the second more often as not. For his size, he was a cheap date.

I got my intel. No wonder Steve was mopey. Harry wasn't stupid except when he was, and that was all over his 'love' life. Why would he propose to Susan? Women hitched themselves to men thinking they could do no better, and Harry also got to tell himself he was 'protecting' her. She might turn into a vampire, but at least she didn't say yes.


	19. Chapter 19

I opened the door, Steve standing there until I stepped back so he could come in. I swung it closed and locked it. I was still working out words for him appearing when he hugged me. I rubbed my cheek against his hair and inhaled; he smelled like safety and love.

I'd forgotten how good kissing Steve is, or maybe thought I'd exaggerated it in memory. "Hi."

If I could capture Steve's smile, this smile... We're easy together, sitting on my couch in my increasingly comfortable apartment. Hot showers are definitely a plus. "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat."

Charity has been giving me, not recipes but some ideas. I think I may be working a girl scout merit badge. Steve helps me cook. That should be a problem, two guys big as we are in as small a kitchen as it is, but then he is a generation's best tactician. "Lots of shaking hands and kissing babies?"

"Yes. I also talked to a lot of base commanders' wives." He said it with some weird combination of Han's hook or crook and Leia's hardbitten idealism. Clearly something was in motion. He spoke about various things; I'm hard on technology, wizard, so Steve gets an appreciative audience as he marvels about invention's progress.

After the cooking and the eating we cleaned up, maybe spending a little more time tangled together than washing or drying. No dishes were hurt, so no foul. "What you wanna do now?"

"Got any cards?"

I smile, eventually, and he grins and we don't look for a pack. Steve is a cut-up, pure delivery. I put on some records and we dance awhile, after. This is good, we're good. Steve's mouth explains all those old films going to black, acting doesn't have a thing on this.

"I want you to show me." I'm a bit hazy from Steve's hands and my own mapping him so I just nuzzle waiting for clarification. "Show me what you like?"

"Don't got a mirror." I didn't need one, normally. "You, I like you."

"I like you too. Show me how to love you." I think he propositioned my right hand, there were teeth, just a little, sexy. That's how much I trust Steve. I figured out what he was asking.

"I don't." His eyebrows went up, which was adorable, manfully uncomplicated. I tried to nudge him back on track, thinking about a little more of his skin.

"You don't." Somehow he made it a question without being dismissive.

"No. You do?" He blushed. I wondered if he did when he did, that. My internal film reel was flapping its leader. Why was I standing with Steve Roger's face turned into my chest?

"It's been some time."

"You're here now." I moved us into my bedroom. I wanted to see the rest of that blush. Unwrapping Steve is a gift. Planes, majesty. My mental soundtrack hums a lot. Standing, in the bed, somehow it happens. Steve moves us about and ends up behind me and I think this is it, this is when. He's hard and hot against my spine.

He cups his palm over my right hand, gets his fingers between mine, makes me unclench my fist. "Guide my hand."

Kinky. I caress his hand and pull it around me. It's Steve's palm so it doesn't feel weird on my chest, though thinking of every little thing... I hook my leg behind Steve's, anchoring with my foot. This is Steve, I'm not alone. He murmurs encouragement, endearments and he's hitching against my vertebrae. I want his hand around my prick but I stall, move his hand around my belly, tease us. I need his mouth and I fight words trying to escape my teeth.

I may come at the first touch. I skirt him past the straining and down to my balls. I resist rolling onto my knees. He's so careful with them, firm, slow. I think of him touching himself. Steve's beautiful, it'd be beautiful. Would he do it on his side? Raised up on one hand, back arced? On his back, legs bent and straining in time with the slide of his palm?

I come, Steve's hand works me and I come. He doesn't shove into me, but he does spurt against my back. He kisses me, side of my mouth, my neck, nape, between my shoulders. He rolls us face to face and kisses me properly, sleepily. I surrender, secure.


	20. Chapter 20

Johnny Storm looked over the soiree, taking in the interesting people. These things were remarkably similar regardless of location. He was in Chicago tonight. He exchanged an empty glass for full as one of the servers passed. It was easier for him to do the out of town ones, what with Reed and his sister's kids, and then Ben did more casual ones (see, no parquet or marble floors).

His usual were all the plus ones, and he'd noticed that they didn't get any older while he did. The salt and pepper gentleman caught Johnny's attention, and it wasn't just the cut of the tux, excellent as it was. He looked aware and ready to take what came, definitely not standard fare at these things.

The pursuit added savor to the savior faire. John Marcone introduced himself late in the evening, and Johnny rendezvoused with him at another hotel. Posh. Little bit of chitchat and then a lot of skin. John didn't have a thing against kissing, which suited Johnny fine. Hang-ups were so tired. Johnny focused so he didn't melt the condom during his blow-job, smoking hot was best as a metaphor.

The scars he saw as he went south were interesting, but he was focused on getting his mouth and the condom in his mouth on John and John into him. Generous and demanding, a real gentleman. Johnny was all for laughter during sex, especially sweaty muscular sex. They had fun, Marcone was tight but not uptight, took it like a champ.

"Shower?"

"This a wool carpet?" Johnny stepped away from the bed and ignited quickly. Self-cleaning. John liked to play with matches, testing that Johnny wasn't still too hot to handle before slathering searing kisses all over, rimmed him, mouthed his balls and traced the thick vein just to under Johnny's glans. Johnny flicked the condom packet away and proffered a different one. "For extreme environments."

John arched an eyebrow. Johnny hung and Marcone opened it, rolled it down and drove Johnny hard and sweet. Absolute mad man. They drowsed and Johnny screwed John slow and steady.

"Got to go, fly back to New York." Johnny got out of bed, gathered up the used condoms, flamed on again, hands hotter than his feet. Extinguished he got dressed, headed back to his complimentary room at the venue, stuffed everything into a Federal Express envelope and left it with the concierge, striding out in his Fantastic Four uniform. His skies were always friendly.


End file.
